


Keeping Appearances

by AuthorForHire



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorForHire/pseuds/AuthorForHire
Summary: After the presentation of Strife's newest smartphone, he is forced to sit with his arch-nemisis during the dinner party.





	Keeping Appearances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FighterAmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FighterAmy/gifts).



> Another little ficlet based on finghteramy's Lab Buddies AU. Go check it out!

Everything was going great. Hundreds of billionaires were here to congratulate Strife  for the new Strife Solutions smartphone. Strife was proud of the design and even more prideful of his keynote speech. People were interested and critics on Twitter were already praising the company for making such an ingenious design. 

Then he showed up.

As soon as everyone saw him, reporters turned their cameras and mics to ask him why he was here and if he supported the entire operation. He (of course) grinned and nodded saying how it’ll really increase communication between Yoglabs staff and made a joke on how it might beat them out for Tech-y Awards. 

Everyone and their dog knew about the tense relationship Stirfe Solutions had with Yoglabs. They were now in a mutual partnership, but only because both parties benefited from it. Yoglabs got better connection throughout their networks and Strife had a lot more promotional deals and funding. Well, maybe not as much funding, but more than what he had gotten prior.

“Look at him, the smug bastard.” Strife growled behind stage as he fixed his tie. 

His intern, Parvis (whom he had also unfortunately gotten from the partnership), only shrugged. “C'mon, at least he showed up.”

Strife glared at him. “Only  because he wants to look like the better person since I missed the Charity Ball last May.”

“You were sick, Strifey. Everyone knows that.” 

Strife’s nostrils flared at the nickname and waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter, and I don’t pay you to give me nicknames, Parvis.”

Parvis only laughed. “You don’t pay me at all. I can call you whatever I want.”

Strife made a noise of disagreement, but did not comment. Parvis looked back at the man in question. 

“You’re gonna have to talk to him.” He noted. “He’s a distinguished guest.”

Strife downed a glass of bourbon. “Shut up, Parv.” He muttered.

The two finally stepped out from backstage and were swarmed by press. Strife didn’t mind, it took some of his focus off of his worst enemy. At first the questions were some he anticipated, like “What are your predictions for business sales this year?” Or “Mr. Strife, what makes this year’s edition better than last years?” 

Then one reporter opened the can of worms.

“Mr. Strife, are you aware of Xephos’ arrival?” A reporter asked. “Did you invite him?”

All reporters stopped their questions about the new phone and looked up for his answer. Strife mentally cursed and smiled stiffly.

“Of course I’m aware. And I did invite him.” He said. “Now, are there any-”

“Mr. Strife, what are your thoughts on the recent fires in the city? Are they connected?”

Strife began to sweat. “It isn’t really my place to say-”

“How long is this partnership going to last between you two going to last?”

Strife opened his mouth to answer, but someone beat him to it. 

“For as long as William wants it to. It’s his company.” An English accent answered. For the first time in his life, Strife was thankful for Xephos’ intrusion. 

All the cameras and reporters turned around to see the Yoglabs CEO standing behind them. The press parted like the red sea as the man stepped forward to greet his business partner with a wide grin and bright eyes that Strife often saw in his nightmares.

“Your presentation was lovely, Will.” Xephos complimented. 

Strife smiled fakely. “Thank you, Lewis.” He said stiffly. “Where’s Simon?”

“He felt a little ill. So I told him to stay home.” Xephos replied. 

Strife clenched his fist behind his back. That wasn’t good. Simon always served as a buffer between him and Xephos. He hoped the press would be enough to protect him from the spaceman if need be.

“Will you two be sitting together?” One of the people asked.

Xephos’ smile faltered for a second as he and Strife met eachother’s eyes. Strife swallowed down the cruel laughter met with the question. Them? Sit together? Never.

“I would think Strife would-” Xephos started but was cut off, surprisingly.

“Of course they are. What a fantastic way to show the peace between the two companies!” Another said.

“Actually, I think we-” Strife tried to say but was drowned out in the commotion of two business rivals sitting together over dinner. 

His eyes met Xephos’ and the two had the same grieving thought. _Do I have to?_

“Well, let’s find a seat, William.” Xephos sighed, his smile growing weary.

“I have one in the middle actually.” Strife said, gesturing over to it. It felt like he was pointing at his own grave.

Xephos nodded, a pained look on his face as they moved to take their seats. They walked side by side so no one could hear their next conversation.

“Well done, Strife. Now we’re forced to spend 3 hours together.” Xephos muttered quietly. 

“Me?! You didn’t have to come! I never even sent you an invite!” Strife hissed. 

“It’s called ‘keeping appearances.’” Xephos snarled back. “Something you obviously know nothing about. Remember the vacant seat at the Charity Ball?”

_“I was sick.”_

“You know, I never have to worry about illnesses.” Xephos started, his voice changing entirely to something much more sinister. “You should really invest in a-” 

“No!” Strife said, almost too loudly. People looked over for a split second before turning back to the tables. He looked Xephos in the eyes and tried again. “No. Not now, not ever will I invest in one of those.”

Xephos shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He answered. And just like that, the sinister undertone was gone. “If this goddamn place doesn’t serve gin,” he muttered, looking around.

“Heaven forbid.” Strife said distastefully. “What would you ever do if not completely drunk?”

Xephos scowled “I’d probably realize Strife Solutions has been a pain in my side far too long.” He threatened.

Strife decided to keep quiet on that one.

They finally sat down and ordered, and thankfully there was plenty of gin to go around. Strife stuck with water, wanting to keep his head moderately clear for now. One drink too many could mean the end of his company.

“The decor in here is quite drab, isn’t it?” Xephos commented. “The bland gold color makes me feel like I’m at someone’s 50th anniversary party.”

That was something Strife could agree on. The entire place looked _hideous_. “I let Parv take care of decorations. Obviously a mistake on my part.”

“I’ve made that mistake only once.” Xephos said, shivering slightly. “Blue and yellow do not go well together, and Simon does not understand that.”

“I remember that,” Strife said, chuckling despite himself. “That feels like years ago.”

“Might’ve been.” Xephos said, looking at his gin. “I’ve lost count nowadays.”

Again, Strife said nothing. That party was 18 years ago. He was still in high school when he read about that.

Xephos checked his watch. “This is going to be a long night.”

“You’re telling me,” Strife scoffed. 

Silence fell on the table. There was nothing left to talk about. Occasionally Strife would feel Xephos’ gaze on him like a fox preys on a rabbit. Those piercing red and blue eyes searching for a moment to strike and devour.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Xephos said so suddenly it almost made Strife choke on his water. “Do you remember that bottle of gin you gave to me when we signed that partnership agreement?”

Strife’s blood went cold. “I gave you a bottle of Gin?” He said, keeping his voice steady.

“Yes, you said it was a special brew.” Xephos replied. “Funny thing, I finally cracked that bottle open the other day and took a couple sips. It tasted really odd. The next thing I know, I’m in the infirmary with ten doctors swarming around me.”

Strife gripped his glass. He had completely forgotten about that. That was before he figured out how Yoglabs hasn’t had a change in leadership since it was created. 

“They told me, and you’re going to laugh at this,” Xephos continued, putting a hand over his mouth as he chuckled. “They told me I had been poisoned.”

The spaceman then shook his head. “But of course that’s ridiculous, right? You, trying to kill me?” He laughed. “What a silly thought.”

Strife felt sweat bead around his forehead. He opened his mouth multiple times to try to say something, _anything_ to save his sorry ass, but cold red eyes kept him pinned down and unable to say a word.

The fake laughter immediately stopped and any instance of a friendly conversation disappeared. Xephos glared at Strife and the businessman hoped that they hadn’t developed some kind machine that makes looks actually kill you. 

“I’ve been really tolerant towards you, William. The only reason you’re here today is because I let you get here.” Xephos hissed.

Strife mustered what courage he could and scoffed. “One day you won’t be able to say that. Even relics like you fade with time.” He growled out, keeping his voice steady. 

Xephos only sneered. “I have all the time in the world, William. I wish you could say the same.” His face changed again and Strife saw that there was no blue left in those cold eyes of his. 

Strife only laughed. “When you finally die, I hope you end up in heaven so I can be the one to kick your sorry ass back to hell.” 

“Wishful thinking, William.” Xephos snarled. “You should save those wishes for something much more efficient. You’re gonna need them.”

“Is that a threat, Xephos?” Strife hissed, balling the tablecloth in his hand.

“It’s a promise. Don’t fuck with me, Strife.” Xephos said, standing and grabbing his drink. “Or you’ll only end up with your face in the dirt.”

As if on some sort of cue, Xephos’ phone rang loudly. The spaceman glared at it before sighing and raising it to his ear. “Consider this your final warning.” He snarled before turning on his heel and answering the phone.

Strife let go of the table cloth, letting out a deep, stress-filled sigh before standing up and walking out of the ballroom. He wasn’t hungry anymore, and he certainly didn’t feel like socializing any further. 

One day, perhaps, he could sleep at night without seeing those cold red eyes in his dreams. But today, he figured, was not going to be one of those days.


End file.
